


Skate With Me

by happyisahabit



Series: Death City Hockey AU [1]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Background Relationships, Getting Together, Hockey AU, Im lying we skipped OT and shootouts need more people but this is drama guys, It's sort of the correct rules of hockey, M/M, Pre-Relationship, gimme more hockey hugs, living for vague proclamations of adoration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyisahabit/pseuds/happyisahabit
Summary: It's the last game of their high school careers and Killik find himself in goal for a shootout, relying on Kid to make the shot. But last game doesn't mean it's over.
Relationships: Death the Kid/Kilik Lung
Series: Death City Hockey AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838494
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Skate With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Destiny19404 asked for a Kid/Kilik fic, but I need the buildup first and I love my new hockey AU! This one happens before 'Give A Puck', but isn't focused on MaStar.

Kilik taps the goal posts with his stick and sinks into a stretch. He needs to get his head back in the game. The ice has been emptied of everyone but him, the opposing team’s goalie, their opponent’s winger, and Kid. Who knew it would come to a shootout in the state championships, their last game in their high school hockey careers?

For his part, Kid looks entirely unaffected. He glides around the ice calmly with long strides, but Kilik knows the violent hurricane of thoughts rattling around in his brain. He’s been in this situation with Kid more times than he could count, having been the starting goalie and center on their teams from elementary into high school. It is almost a comfort, the familiarity of it, yet he knew Kid still agonizes over the details to the last moment. All the ways a shootout could go wrong. All the ways the other team’s goalie had moved during the game to keep them from scoring. All the missed shots on goal from the last three periods. 

Kid had been the only one to score for them during regulation, early in the first period before the goalie had gotten into the right headspace. They could have won off of that if not for Kilik’s single lapse of judgement during the game. Some would say it had been a string of bad luck, but then Kilik didn’t believe in luck, only hard work. 

Their opponent was on their last desperate attempts late in the third. Black Star and the enemy left wing had just gotten out of the penalty box from an altercation where the left wing had slashed Maka and Black Star checked hard into the boards after the whistle. The offensive pair had to stay at center ice, though, when the other team moved the puck into Shibusen High’s territory. That left Ox and Harvar as his guards, but they were out of position.

The puck sailed ahead of the players and Kilik, aware of the timing and how out of position their defensemen were, left the goal to tap the puck behind the net where hopefully a teammate could get to it first. It was the first bad call he had made all game.

As he got back to the goal, his peripheral vision caught the ref sweeping his arms in a cancelling motion and Kilik instantly knew he’d negated an icing call that would have been in their favor. Distracted, only his muscle memory and instinct had him doing the splits to try and block a hook shot as Harvar tried to get in front of him and the goal. The puck skimmed just over Kilik’s shoulder and into the net. The loud buzzer equaled the level of his frustration.

With only seventeen seconds left after that, even ‘Death the Kid’ and the ‘Murder Wings’ Maka and Black Star couldn’t string together another goal. So a shootout it was.

Kilik had tuned out an argument between Black Star and Soul while they took a quick break at the bench during the refs’ explanation of shootout rules. Their team manager didn’t have a real good grasp of hockey from a player’s perspective- he could barely stand on skates- but he knew the metrics of their team forwards and backwards. Which was why Kid was going to be their shooter instead of Black Star. Despite the fiery energy their left winger had, their center’s absolute precision and strategy was necessary to outwit the enemy’s solid defense. He heard Maka arguing as well while Kilik stared at the opposing bench trying to figure out who they’d send out. He sort of doubted it would be the guy who got the lucky shot.

But it was. 

Kilik takes a deep breath, letting Kid’s anxious figure eights set a rhythm in his veins. The rest of the game didn’t matter now. It didn’t matter that the other team thought putting their one scorer against him, trying to ruffle his feathers. It hadn’t been the player’s skill that had gotten him a bucket against Kilik; it had been Kilik’s own mistake, not letting the icing call stand. Kilik would not leave the net, would not let the puck pass the line, would not let them in his head. He was a solid wall of steel.

And he would rely on Kid to do the rest.

Kid starts his first approach, starting a little slow, considering. Despite their team captain’s maddening anxiety of situations just like this, he always delivers. There is no one on the team that Kilik trusts more, knows better. The first shot is always critical, especially since it had already been proven at the beginning of the game that the other goalie needed a moment to get in the right mindset. It’s a one on one battle and the goalie in all his heavy pads looks small on his own, without his defensemen. He picks up speed, a little stutter step, then he’s zig zagging down the ice, juking now and then. Finally, the goalie bites, flinches to the left and Kid’s stick has never moved faster.

There’s an absolute roar from the Shibusen High bench and faithful when the puck snaps into the back of the net. Kilik lets the thrill of the quick strike fill him for the span of two full breaths, then tries to resettle himself. He takes a look at the bench, where Kid is getting slaps of congratulations on his helmet and shoulder pads. His center looks over at him and Kilik takes comfort in the familiar golden gaze. Kid nods at him, determination and trust evident. Kilik shimmies back into the net, and redoes his goal post taps, eyes locked on Kid’s. The ref signals the other team’s approach will begin now and Kilik turns to the lucky opponent with a wicked grin.

The winger is impatient, starting off the bat with a quick pace and eating up the remaining space in front of him like a glutton. Kilik already knows the puck won’t get past him, all of the jukes are sloppy and the passing is off-rhythm. When the winger takes his shot, it isn’t sneaky or good past the fact that it is, indeed, aimed at the net. Almost in slow motion, Kilik tracks the puck, stretching and twisting. Nothing makes noise in this sliver of time but the cut of his skates, the air whipping around the black piece of weighted rubber, and his own tempered breath. 

With a loud thud that speeds everything back up, the puck neatly seats itself in his glove. 

The sound after that is ridiculously loud. The crowd, his team, everything is loud as their victory is announced. Still, the only thing Kilik focuses on is the body hurtling towards him on the ice. 

The puck drops to the floor and the breath is knocked out of him by the wiry hockey-padded boy smashing into him with a hug. Kilik lifts his center, his team captain, in elation. Kid laughs happily with him as all the stress of this last championship, last game of their high school career ends in such a satisfying way. Their helmets clink together as the rest of the team clambers over the wall to join them. 

Before they can, Kid grasps Kilik’s helmet, fingers tangled in the metal grill. His breath is hot on Kilik’s cheeks and the adrenaline pumps through Kilik’s veins, heady and rich. Kid’s golden eyes hold so many emotions that are normally so hard to read and Kilik doesn’t even know how to begin to address them outloud, so he just continues to hold Kid in the air and squeeze him.

“Keep skating with me,” Kid says, voice hoarse from yelling during the match.

It says both everything and nothing at once, but Kilik can’t bring himself to clarify right now. All he wants is for this high from winning, this elation at holding his favorite teammate, never to end. So he rasps back around his mouth guard, “With you.”

Kid’s eyes blaze and his grin widens. Kilik commits the sight to memory, sweaty black and white bangs plastered to his forehead, flushed cheeks and just the beginnings of a shiner on his jaw where someone had jabbed him with the end of a stick.

“With you,” Kid echoes, just as the rest of their team barrels into them.

Black Star and Maka are already a tangle of limbs themselves, but as soon as they’re an arms’ length away from Kid and Kilik they’re suddenly all splayed on the ice. Black Star is rapidly giving him a colorful play by play of his own saves and Maka is just laughing hysterically, like she can’t withhold any part of her joy. Ox and Harvar join the pile as their other half of the starting lineup, then comes their second string, just as noisy. Kilik revels in the pile of team love and how Kid doesn’t stop clinging to him. Soul eventually slips and skids his way to them all and then they are complete.

It might be the end of their high school hockey team journey, but they were a team for life and there was plenty of skating left for them to do, together.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please review and let me know what you think! I haven't written them before and I'm always looking for new rarepairs to write or art for on @happyfanart on tumblr.


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